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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23327788">Snakes and Roses</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/icewazowski/pseuds/icewazowski'>icewazowski</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Snakes and Roses [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Assassin's Creed - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, F/M, Light BDSM, Smut</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 04:08:26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,671</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23327788</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/icewazowski/pseuds/icewazowski</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone had heard of London's most famous Templar, Crawford Starrick. A dangerous and lethal man who cared not for the people of the city but for the profits. His daughter, Angelica Starrick was bound to follow in his footsteps as a Templar too - it was only on her seventeenth birthday that this had happened.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Evie Frye/Original Female Character(s), Jacob Frye/Original Female Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Snakes and Roses [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1677613</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Thistle & Crown</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Why the hell does this place smell like death?" Angelica questioned, her eyes flitting around the gloomy street. It was a cool night in the unforgiving city her father ran, a drizzle coaxing the nighttime air and anything that was exposed to the elements. She tripped, only enough to offset her pace, on the cobbles of the path, growling with disgust as she noticed the rain and manure riddled between the cracks.</p>
<p>Above her, a gaslight lit up the street in an eerie orange hue, casting ghostly shadows around the houses and empty archways - it was as if London was abandoned at night, a complete ghost town. She noted the way that the street smelled, musty and stale, as she turned the corner and watched the entrance of the pub which sat flush between two housing blocks. One was a temporary accommodation - where the poorer people of Westminster went for the night.</p>
<p>She pitied them, in a way.</p>
<p>From outside, Angelica could already hear the bubbly laughter of the drunken men and the faint melody of a fiddle being played from inside. The windows were fogged up as the warm breaths of the men and women hugged the panes of glass. The sound of romance, or more appropriately, sex came from an open window on the top floor, and she found herself hanging onto the sound for just a beat too long before the door swung open and a man vomited over the grate by the door.</p>
<p>Angelica raised her eyebrows in alarm, slipping into the warm pub to avoid the acidic smell of the vomit on the floor. </p>
<p>Inside, men in red bellowed and belched gleefully as they thrust their tankards up in the air causing a medley of brown liquid to angrily slosh over the rim of the cups. She smiled, her companions noticing her and cheering loud as the daughter of none other than Crawford Starrick graced their presence. </p>
<p>"Calm down lads!" She began, leaning over the bar and grabbing a bottle from a shelf, "Tonight we celebrate! Tomorrow we take over the world!", Angelica thrust the brown bottle forwards, anticipating the cheers of her fellow Templars. Their cheers and rallying cries were cut short as the door swung open with such ferocity that stunned the gang inside to silence.</p>
<p>A man, cloaked in black and mystery, sauntered right in as if he owned the place. She didn't recognise his face at all - well, from the glimpse she saw peeking from beneath his hood. "Try the bitter," He offered, grabbing a chair and sitting on it.</p>
<p>To her right, a chubby man in red puffed out a long breath of smoke and asked the group of Blighters gathered around who the man was. But before any of them could answer, the hooded man continued his provocation. "It's actually quite drinkable."</p>
<p>Angelica watched him as he rested his forearms on the top of the wooden chair, his eyes skimming amongst the crowd. "Go on," He spat, now looking directly at Angelica, "Toast your noble boss..."</p>
<p>It was silent for a minute - maybe it was two, possibly even ten, Angelica couldn't tell as no one daren't move, not even the clock seemed to move. The hooded man spoke again, this time in a more venomous way, "This thief of London," she felt a shift at her side as a red-clad bloke stepped forwards, eyeing the man up and down. "Or, you could do better..." </p>
<p>This time, Angelica leant forward in interest at what this man had to saw. The gentleman's eyes - or what anyone could see of them - scanned the audience and for a moment he lingered on Angelica's amused face. But then, almost as if he'd reset himself, his attention landed to the man stood before him, "Join me! Join the Rooks!" he offered around with a raise of his fist. She couldn't tell if he was drunk of just downright arrogant, but he was not giving up as the men stalked closer and closer...</p>
<p>One of the Blighter's charged towards the gentleman, prompting the remaining crowd to follow suit in their attack. The first Blighter threw a punch, but the hooded man grabbed his wrist and flawlessly twisted his body around so that his back rested against the Blighter's chest. He yanked. Hard. Causing the man to scream in agony before collapsing onto the sticky floor and writing around in pain. </p>
<p>Angelica watched as more and more of her precious Blighters piled up, unconscious. She opened her coat up and snatched the pistol from its holster, aiming it at the floor by the man's feet, she just wanted to scare him, not cause him to try and kill her. He dodged it, the bullet lodging into the flooring with a tremendous CRACK as the lead buried itself in the oak. </p>
<p>The man grabbed another Blighter, this time smashing his face into the bar and dragging it along the wood - causing tankards and bottles to crash to the ground and create a soupy mixture of London's most popular bitters and ale. The Blighter landed on the floor and, like a predator, the hooded man stalked over, spinning the Blighter around and straddling his legs.</p>
<p>And only at that moment had Angelica noticed the glinting of metal at his wrist, the gauntlet, the brass knuckles. She thought back to what her father had said about it all, the two twins coming to ruin London and, in turn, to ruin the world.</p>
<p>"Jacob! Mr Frye!" The Blighter begged, retracting as far as he could into the flooring, "Just take the money! Please! It's all yours!" he spluttered as Jacob Frye extracted something from the Blighter's waistband. Angelica stood there in shock and anger at the man's actions. </p>
<p>A <em>fucking</em> Frye in <em>her</em> tavern, stealing the hard earned money from the men who owned factories. They <em>deserved </em>that money for what they did. She felt her blood rushing to her cheeks as rage flooded her every sense. He took the money and stuffed it into the man's mouth. </p>
<p>Angelica watched in fury as he exited the tavern along with some yellow and green clad blokes. She surged forwards, forcing herself through the crowd and to the very front of the gathering. She watched as her own Blighters, the gang <em>she </em>had orchestrated began to strip of their red garments and into the vomit-green attire of the Rooks. </p>
<p>Furious, Angelica turned away and shoved her way through the once loyal Blighters. Her father had to hear about this, and Angelica, well she was going to make Jacob Frye pay for what he'd done.</p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Fight Club</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>[CW: Explicit Violence and Strong Language - Minor death]</p><p>I hope you're not all expecting her to be nice, she's a Templar at heart.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jacob Frye. His name rang around my head incessantly, bouncing around the room where I laid until I could do nothing but think of him, his strong arms, his strong voice, how tall he was, how good he could fight. Everything I knew about him plagued my brain as I remained under the sheets, breathing slow and heavy with rage. Hours before, I had heard rumours circulating from my father regarding the man in question - he had been spotted on his way to the syrup factory and now I, of all people, was being tasked with stopping him.</p><p>"Why can't father do anything for himself?" I grumbled, jolting upright and eyeing up the wardrobe standing guard from the other side of my bedroom. Today's assignment was heading to the Fight Club in Southwark Foundry to await Mr Jacob Frye's arrival. I wasn't told a time he'd get there - mind you, assassin's didn't really stick to a schedule - just to keep busy whilst I waited for him to arrive.</p><p>I slipped out of my warm bed, the morning light barely appearing through the thick London smog, and reached for the tunic I wore under the rest of my clothes, the thing I wore during fighting. For a change, I would be wearing my trousers and my sturdy boots. After that I pulled on the rest of my black and purple attire, putting my hair into a low bun which flopped against my already clammy neck.</p><p>I took one last look at her room, making sure I had everything I needed. In all honesty, I had no indication of what time I would be home, only that it would probably take most of the day. I checked my appearance in the vanity mirror and was shocked to see the scratch under my eye. That bloody cat. </p><p>From the hallway, the grandfather clock chimed nine times - telling me that it was time to go. I snatched the purse from my bedside table and strapped it next to my blades. My palm grabbed the window handle, opening it and swinging the window open. I cast one last look into my dim bedroom, savouring the sight of my bed.</p><p><em>I'll see you later. </em>I thought to myself, swinging my legs out the window and readied myself for the abrupt drop down. Once my feet were steady on the grass below my window, I ran out into the street and made my way to the Fight Club</p><p>-</p><p>"Miss Starrick!" The Distribution Boss welcomed, opening his arms from the front of the early morning's audience. There was currently a fight going on between some bald bloke and a man with a full beard who barely reached half of his opponents size. I watched, amused as the small guy attempted to tackle his opponent.</p><p>"Will you be fighting today?" The Boss leant forwards onto the ring's border and smirked knowingly at me.</p><p>I smiled dangerously, "Do you even know me? Of course I'll be fighting today - put me in your next round." He didn't even have to ask twice before I began to pull my outerwear off and shoved it to the nearest worker, "Steal anything and you'll end up without a hand." I warned, straddling the barrier.</p><p>Everyone in this corrupt city knew about the Starrick Family; we were the richest and most influential Templar family in the world. It was near impossible to not know who we were - our faces were practically painted on every poster in the bloody capital. In fact, I always moaned about how bad my nose looked in every poster. They just couldn't get my nose right.</p><p>Terry, The Distribution Boss, clambered up onto his soapbox, "Who here is brave enough to stand up against the younger Starrick?" He began, opening his arms wide to the suffocating crowd surrounding the flimsy wooden fencing. He continued, "This woman is the heir to her father's throne, she rules half of the city we're standing in, she's none other than, Southwark's undefeated, Angelica Starrick!" Terry yelled over the audience.</p><p>It was impressive and also intimidating in the way that the crowd silenced to the point where you'd be able to hear a pin drop. They all watched me as I stood in the middle doing nothing but basking in their gaze - I loved the attention, this was the one thing my Father couldn't take away from me. Right now I was the only person standing between them and their winnings.</p><p>I cracked my knuckles, "Come on lads, I don't bite... hard." I winked at one of the frontmen eliciting a smirk from him. Using my tongue, I wet my lips as I watched him begin to mount the fence, only to get dragged into the darkness of the crowd by a mysterious figure.</p><p>"This one's mine."</p><p>It was that same voice. The same fucking voice that kept me awake all damn night as I fought off any waves of conflicting emotions (or rather the immense lust I somehow developed for his voice). He climbed over effortlessly, the muscles in his back rippling under his sweat drenched skin. I took note of a songbird tattoo, a swallow I thought it was, which sat flush against his chest in inky black lines. Between his collar bones sat a necklace, black rope and some sort of coin hanging around it.</p><p>I wanted it, "The necklace, if I win, it's mine." I whispered, patting Mr Frye's warm chest. I felt his chest hair under the pads of my finger tips, the little curls of hair tickling my palm.</p><p>"That's a very slim chance, love." He looked me up and down one sweeping gaze, he wet his lips and wrung his hands together. I saw his eyes change, lust or some other emotion filling his hazel eyes - it was gone when he blinked.</p><p>It was quiet for another moment, but then the bell rang out and the cheers began as it was time to start the fight.</p><p>To begin with, neither of us dared to move, both of us too intrigued in what the other would do. I anticipated him to make the first move, but he didn't. I squared up to him, waiting for him to underestimate my power - which he was bound to do. </p><p>As if reading my thoughts, he drew up his fists.</p><p>We were both stuck in teasing each other, dancing circles around the ring as we did nothing but wait. He eyed up everything I did, waiting for the moment I tried something. I faked a lunge at him and watched him fall backwards in shock.</p><p>Mr Frye lunged at me, creating a chorus of cheers in the crowd as his fists went straight for my face, I reacted a fraction too slow, spinning to the side and bringing down my elbow, hard. He fell forwards and landed in the dirt. With a grunt, he shoved himself up onto his feet.</p><p>He turned extremely fast, punching for my face but I grabbed his fist and twisted it, forcing him back onto the floor. "Not so cocky now, are you?" I teased, whispering in his ear and dragging my nail up his throat. He shivered instinctively.</p><p>Mr Frye stood up to his full size, "We'll see about that, Darling." he winked at me, took half a step back and then threw himself at me once again in an attempt to tackle me to the ground. I didn't expect it, my back slamming into the factory floor and forcing the air out of me. I wheezed as he straddled me, pinning my wrists above my head in his large, warm hand. His other held my chin and he licked his lips once more.</p><p>"I could get used to looking at you under me." Mr Frye admitted. I brought my knee up, slamming it into his groin and shoving him onto his back. I rolled with him and straddled him, pinning his ams under my knees. I watched him and leant down next to his ear.</p><p>My breathing was hot on his neck, "Hm, Can we just agree that your necklace would look a lot better on me." I whispered as I unclasped his necklace and tucked it down my shirt. I stood up, dusting myself off, "I think we're done here." Mr Frye climbed to his feet once more.</p><p>He smirked at me, his hazel eyes glistening into the dim factory, "If you say so, love." I watched him hop the fence with nothing but a smile and a light bruise on his face.</p><p>I retrieved the necklace from between my breasts and clasped it around my neck, just giving me enough time to see the assassin grab Terry and force him into his office, threatening him in order to gain information about the Starrick Syrup. </p><p>The door opened again and Mr Frye left the office with a smile on his face - of course, Terry had told him. Now I'd have to be one step ahead and beat him to the factory to gain any sort of upper hand. But before I did that, I'd have to tie a loose end.</p><p>I sauntered over to the office, not having to force my way through the crowd as they just dissipated. The door was still open, blood fresh on the floor from where Mr Frye had beaten Terry for information. Now that I was fully dressed, I'd have everything I needed to follow the assassin into the city. </p><p>"Oh dear," Terry laid on the floor, blood seeping from his already broken nose, "I didn't realise you were a coward as well as disloyal," I spat, grabbing his collar and pulling him up to my face, "You think that just because-"</p><p>"Miss Starrick! I can explain!" The Distribution Boss interrupted, landing on his elbows when I threw him down on the floor. I huffed through my nose, I couldn't deal with more annoyance from this insolent man. He had absolutely nothing to do with the grand scheme of things and we both knew it.</p><p>I drew the blade from my coat, "If you fucking interrupt me once more - just once - I will slice you open and throw you out of that window. Okay?" the man on the floor in front of me nodded, "Oh, and this is for the first interruption." I curled my fist around the blade, slicing my palm as I did. I punched the man's face, smiling when I felt the crunch of his eye socket breaking.</p><p>"Because of you, I'm going to be chasing that man across all of bloody London to find him. Just once, I would like to enjoy one day of peace. And yet," I paused letting her words hang heavy in the air, "I'm having to clean up the messes you've made. Again."</p><p>I could smell his sweat, the fear seeping from his skin as he tried to conceal any fear, "Ms Starrick -" I brought the knife down into Terry's thigh. It hit bone, causing my arm to abruptly stop and for the man to scream in fear. I didn't necessarily want to hurt him but sometimes needs must.</p><p>"I told you," I growled, some dangerous emotion clouding my thoughts, "to not interrupt me," I twisted the knife, feeling each bit of muscle peeling away as the blade sliced through his body, ruining him, "again." This time, I brought my left hand up to his throat, plunging the blade at my wrist into his neck and holding his chin as the life bled out of him.</p><p>He went through every emotion and I watched him become more and more scared as he bled out on himself and down my arm. </p><p>Once I was certain he was dead, I picked him up and slumped him over my shoulder. The next thing I did was shoving him out of the window, enjoying the wretched cries and screams of innocent people getting caught up in the mess I had made in the street below.</p><p>I caught myself thinking about Mr Frye, how he acted like a little mouse in the world's largest cat and mouse game, hiding from me and running away constantly. I'd just have to find him before he ruined one of my father's largest successes.</p><p>-</p><p>Sun danced across London as it fought through the fog. I sat on some housing estate's rooftop, examining the way the necklace looked against my cream skin. I turned it over in my palm and watched the way it reflected the light from the sun. The necklace was a simple coin - probably from another country - and there were scratches adorning the faces of the coin, ruining any writing or drawings on the currency.</p><p>Below me, the street bloomed with life as merchants and vendors offered their goods in a boastful manner - I watched in awe at their innocence. Everything about them was just so adorable. If only life was that simple for me as well.<br/><br/>I leant forwards and leant on my elbows, feeling the sun on my skin. I smiled to myself as I recalled a once forgotten memory, something my mother told me as a child.</p><p>She told me of a Templar who hunted assassin's in order to bring balance, Shay, he was called. He was a god among men, someone I admired completely. Of course, my mother had also told me assassin stories, tales from ancient times when the creed was first established. <br/><br/>I wanted to be like Shay, but better than him. He sought for peace through control, as did all of the Templars, but sometimes he was soft - letting his pre-templar attachments to get under his feet.</p><p>A crash of a roof slate brought me out of the relaxed state I was in. </p><p>"Oh don't mind me... I'm just - uh - passing by?" A woman's voice, soft and elegant rang out from the roof behind me. I stood up to my full height.</p><p>"Do I know you?"</p><p>"Me? No, no. Allow me to introduce myself, I'm Evie Frye, and you are?" Evie Frye. <em>Frye. </em>How was it that he haunted her in every aspect of this wretched city?</p><p>I smiled at her, finally getting a proper look at her now that we were metres apart. "I'm Angelica, Angelica Starrick." Her eyes mulled over for a beat too long at the discomfort of my name. </p><p>"Well, Angelica, it was lovely meeting you, we'll have to catch up later-"</p><p>"Evie wait!" I grabbed her wrist and she looked at my fingers wrapped around her bare forearm, "Theres a factory a few blocks away, you can't miss it, please free the children."</p><p>Evie nodded. "I will do, why are you telling me this."</p><p>"Just please, make sure you get them all out." I begged her. I hated how they were all torturously worked, it was morbid and unfair on the poor children of this city. They were our future and now they were being forced down to the depths of the machines that earned this empire its money.</p><p>She watched me, questioning everything that she could, "So there is good in you, hm. Here I was thinking all Templar's were bad." her hand tilted my chin up so I looked at her.</p><p>"Not inherently, no. But then again it depends what type of mood I'm in." I winked at her and lowered myself from the rooftop. The soothing syrup factory was right around the corner.</p>
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